


Lifeline

by steveelotaku



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Bi Jill Valentine, Bi Rebecca Chambers, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Nightmares, Scars, Shameless Smut, Spiders, slight AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:07:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23782102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steveelotaku/pseuds/steveelotaku
Summary: Jill Valentine is really hating the healing process after being Albert Wesker's puppet for a few years. Rebecca has just the thing for her--an island getaway.
Relationships: Rebecca Chambers/Jill Valentine
Comments: 12
Kudos: 27





	1. Preludes and Nocturnes

To say that Jill Valentine had never liked hospitals would be something of an understatement. As a kid, she’d hated getting shots. As an adult, she’d come to loathe physical exams. And post-Raccoon City, she’d come to hate the places entirely on principle, usually because she was sitting incapacitated on a slab waiting to be eaten alive if she was in one.

Then Albert _fucking_ Wesker had decided to come back from the dead.

She wondered if it had been her fault, hunting him down ruthlessly, never stopping to think of the consequences. But _someone_ had to. Chris had fought alongside her as they’d always done, and when it came time to stop Wesker, when she had the opportunity, she’d taken a gamble.

Tackling him out a window over a cliff, in hindsight, was probably a stupid move.

And she knew it, too, the moment she’d woken up strapped to a bed, wearing almost nothing, and with that same fucking cocky smirk on Wesker’s face.

“You always did care far too much, _Jill_.”

That _infuriating_ , airy little “Jill.”

“I swear to God I’m going to rip your mutated dick off, Wesker, and force-feed it to you.”

“There won’t be any need for that kind of unrefined, Freudian violence,” Wesker had said, calmly. “You know, Jill, you’re something of a scientific marvel. Resistant to every strain of the Progenitor Virus. Very few people can claim such genetic power.”

“Well, happy fucking birthday to me, God saw fit to bestow me with something besides a great rack. Am I supposed to care, Albert? Save yourself the trouble and put a bullet in my brain. You know I’m going to just break your next toy.”

Wesker laughed, that same annoying, smug-ass laugh that made Jill always want to strangle him even before she knew he was evil.

“My toy—oh, you thought _I_ sent Nemesis after you? I can’t claim credit. That overpriced GI Joe with all the cute little accessory kits set Umbrella back _billions_. European division’s idea. Those boho imbeciles design weapons like _handbags_. All aesthetic, no results.”

“Hello, pot, I’m the kettle,” Jill deadpanned. “You’re black. Leather, specifically. You start frequenting fetish clubs after S.T.A.R.S. disbanded? I mean, come on, I liked _The Matrix_ too, but 1999 was a long-ass time ago.”

“You talk entirely too much, Jill. It’s always been your worst trait.”

“Your worst trait is your ego, Wesker,” Jill spat, defiantly. “It’ll always bite you in the ass.”

“Speaking of bites, I remember an interesting tidbit about you,” he said, smugly. “I seem to recall in your training you always professed something of a dislike for spiders.”

“The last spider I took down was three times as big as me and I fed it a nice lead snack,” Jill replied, gritting her teeth. “If you have some big-ass tarantula waiting, go ahead. Bring it out. I’ll pull its legs off and stomp its brains out.”

“Oh, I’m afraid this one’s rather small,” Wesker said.

“Like your dick?”

Wesker ignored her and produced a metal spider about the size of her hand.

“This will hopefully overcome that pesky resistance of yours.”

As he rammed the needle-sharp legs of the spider down between her breasts, Jill startled awake.

\--

It had been a while since Kijuju. The virus was out of her system, pretty much totally.

But dear God, did waking up _suck_. It meant another battery of reports filed to the BSAA to make sure that no, she wasn’t turning into Wesker Jr., and no, she wasn’t going to start sprouting tentacles the moment she got back in the field.

“He’s dead, Jill. For good. I don’t know of anyone who can survive taking a rocket to the face and plunging straight into a volcano, getting set on fire, and slowly melting from the flames.”

Chris’s words had been meant to be comforting, but somehow, they still didn’t sit right. Jill had _seen_ her worst nightmares claw their way out of fires, explosions, you name it. Even though she knew Chris couldn’t be wrong, that _nothing_ could survive a volcano, something still felt wrong.

“You have PTSD,” one of the soldiers on base had said. “It’s normal in a career like yours.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” she’d replied. “Got any other shocking revelations for me?”

“Yes, actually. The fact you haven’t gone completely insane from everything you’ve gone through shows you have an indomitable spirit. That is truly rare.”

“We’re done talking,” she’d muttered, leaving in a hurry.

_Special. Rare. Unique._

So many perfect little adjectives, always used to put her under a microscope and cut her open. Always by some smug, glasses-wearing _asshole_. Could she just get back to a normal life? Just have a little break, as a treat? Sunning on a beach with a cold beer? Maybe with a cute brunette at her side?

Jill liked her job. Jill liked taking down the scum of the earth and making sure their bioweapons couldn’t hurt anybody. It was good. It _felt_ good.

But too many times, she’d been strapped to a table like a third-rate James Bond and given the whole villainous monologue treatment. Too many times had she been strapped down and sized up like fresh meat at a kink club that didn’t believe in safewords.

_If there’s one thing I can take comfort in, it’s that that asshole Wesker probably never bred. All that fucking virus shit probably made him impotent._

“I am genetic perfection,” she said to herself in a mocking British accent. “That’s why I’m going to act like the gay tiger from Disney’s _Jungle Book_ and stick you full of needles because my dick is too good for anyone.”

She sighed.

A knock came on the door.

“If it’s about me having a bad attitude on base, you can screw off! I’m filing the damn report today, wait until that clears!” Jill called.

“Uh…J-Jill?” came a small voice.

She opened the door.

“Becky?” Jill asked, surprised.

Indeed, Rebecca Chambers was at the door, in a green turtleneck and grey miniskirt. In spite of the long expanse of time since she’d seen her last, Jill swore the former S.T.A.R.S. medic looked almost completely identical to way back when.

Jill tackled her with a hug.

“I didn’t know you were here!” she exclaimed. “I’m sorry if I startled you.”

“I heard you were recovering,” Rebecca said, softly. “I wanted to come spend time with you. I know things haven’t exactly been easy. Still! I hope I can make things better!”

“Take me out of this stupid lab and you’ll make _everything_ better.”

Rebecca giggled.

“I actually came to tell you you’re going away with me to a place I booked on an island.”

“This is a normal island, right?” Jill asked. “Like, no B.O.W.s. No megalomaniacs in leather. Just a normal fucking island.”

“It’s a private island I booked for recovery purposes,” Rebecca reassured her. “I own a house on the island and strictly speaking the BSAA owns the land. They were thinking of doing PTSD retreats there, but they want to be sure it’s a good investment. I figured you’d be stir-crazy all cooped up like this, so I decided to persuade them to let us take a little vacation together!”

“Thank god, a normal fucking island. What a novel concept.”

“Get your stuff together,” Rebecca said, sweetly, “and we’ll get going tonight.”

\--

The flight via private helicopter to Daybreak Isle was a calm and relatively relaxing one, even if it was a military-grade chopper and not a private jet. Jill was in aviator sunglasses, a tank top, and jeans, sipping on a wine cooler, and Rebecca was still in one of her professor outfits that Jill swore just made her look like some anime ideal of nerddom. The small but tight skirts, the innocent sweaters and the cheerful perpetual smile.

Dear god, after everything, how did Rebecca keep looking so cheerful? She looked like she always did, fresh out of school and ready to change the world.

_And still ungodly cute_ , Jill noted, hoping the bad lighting of the helicopter concealed her blush.

“So, you gotta catch me up,” Rebecca said. “Only like, what you wanna share, but…I’ve been in the dark. Chris said some bad stuff happened with…”

She trailed off.

“Wesker tried using me as his new bodyguard,” Jill said. “Pumped me full of mind-control shit. It’s why I’m blonde now. The whole viral shit bleached my hair.”

Rebecca shook her head, worry in her eyes.

“Oh no…how’d he get his hands on you?”

“I threw hands with him,” Jill said, laughing. “Threw the son-of-a-bitch off a cliff, football tackled him all the way. Turns out he’d toughened up since he got his guts ripped out by his own Tyrant. Must have nabbed me when I fell unconscious.”

“So what happened?”

“Chris ripped his mind control spider bot out of my chest, and then blew the fucker apart in a volcano after he mutated into some kind of worm-infested monstrosity. He says he saw Wesker melt to death, and that should comfort me, but…”

“You think he’s still alive?” Rebecca finished. “Look…not trusting him to stay dead is pretty normal in our line of work. But I know that if he comes back, you’ll get him.”

“How do you know?” Jill asked.

Rebecca’s face grew serious.

“Because if you don’t, I’ll personally blow his head off if he comes anywhere _near_ you.”

Jill burst out laughing, grinning her first smile in a long time.

“Holy shit, Becky! You’ve become such a badass.”

“Hey, if I can take on a giant snake, I can take a fuckboy in sunglasses.”

As the helicopter touched down, Jill shouldered all of her bags at once, something that made Rebecca’s jaw drop.

“Is _that_ what the Wesker treatment does to you?!” she exclaimed.

“Hey. I was ripped as fuck before Guy Fieri from hell got to me,” Jill deadpanned. “So I got a little boost from every flavour of the T-Virus. Most of that’s all me, though.”

Jill lifted up her shirt a little. Rebecca’s eyes went wide.

“That’s a six-pack to rival _Chris_ , holy crap…”

“I can’t punch boulders like he can,” Jill quipped. “But I’m getting there. Wish I had that railgun to lift again. That thing was the size and weight of me, I’d love to do some bench presses with it.”

“Railgun? How much did I miss?!”

“Later, Becky,” Jill said, smiling. “Let’s get unpacked.”

As they walked up a hill towards an old house, Jill felt a small spasm of fear, before she shook her head and took a closer look. Sure, they were on an island in the middle of nowhere. Sure, it was a full moon outside and the house was old, but—there was no peeling paint. There was a cellphone tower nearby. Freshly-installed cables and wiring were visible on the sides of the house. There were pipes leading outside, which indicated running water and all modern conveniences.

And Rebecca was using a normal key to open the front door, not two halves of a medallion, or a bunch of armour-themed keys.

“I was beginning to wonder if normal locks still existed,” Jill deadpanned.

“Oh, don’t worry! Every lock in this house is standard,” Rebecca reassured her. “There are no sliding blocks, mirrors, or any gimmicks to any of the rooms. It’s a home, not an escape room.”

“Umbrella really missed out on joining the escape room business. They could have made _tons_ of money that way.”

“Leon called me up once to tell me that that lock company that used chess pieces is still in business. How?”

“Bored rich weirdos,” Jill affirmed. “The stories I could tell you of Wesker and his puzzle lock fetish. Guy was _so_ pathetic.”

“He always seemed so dashing yet creepy,” Rebecca said. “Like he looked like a badass but the more time you spent around him the more your skin crawled.”

The image of Rebecca in the basketball uniform filled her head once more, and Jill sighed. Some stories could wait until later.

“Well, let’s get unpacked,” Jill said, finally.

The house inside was warm, but incongruously furnished with mostly modern, cheap IKEA furniture. There were a few older touches, but mostly it was a modern home on the inside.

“We had to redo the place on the cheap,” Rebecca explained.

“You did it well,” Jill replied, looking around with relief.

Rebecca took Jill up to her bedroom. It was a roomy space that might have once been an office—there was an antique desk in the corner, but room enough for a small bookshelf and a sizable bed. She could walk comfortably between the two.

“This’ll be your space, Jill,” she said. “I have a smaller room just next door—I know you probably want some space for push-ups or whatever, so I gave you the office bedroom. I’m fine with what I’ve got—I’ve never taken up much space.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Jill said.

“Please tell me that wasn’t an intentional pun,” Rebecca said, sighing. “You sounded just like Chris there. Remember all the godawful puns he’d make during briefings?”

“Remember how irritated Wesker would get?” Jill said, grinning. “ _Chrissss!_ ”

“Oh, god, he did say it like that, didn’t he?!”

“Captain Wesker never did have a sense of humour,” Jill said, laughing. “And trust me, Evil Overlord Wesker had even less. He’d make bad jokes like he was trying to be one of those old movie villains like Freddy Krueger or something. I swear if he hadn’t been mind controlling me, I’d have rolled my eyes and groaned when fighting beside him.”

“What did he say?”

“Well, one time he and I cornered Chris, and what does Wesker say? _Seven minutes. Seven minutes is all I can spare to play with you._ ”

“That’s oddly specific and horribly lame.”

“The worst part is?” Jill added. “He took fifteen minutes. He did! I mentally timed him!”

“Bitch can’t even count,” Rebecca said, laughing and sitting back on the bed.

Jill set her bags down.

“God, all this baggage…there’s so much here I don’t wanna unpack.”

“Was that literal, or?”

Jill sighed.

“I wish it was only literal,” she said, groaning. “It feels like every year since 1998 I’ve been chased by a bunch of Hot Topic shoppers with assault rifles or tentacle arms or both.”

Rebecca gently laid a hand on her wrist.

“Hey, you’re here with me, okay? S.T.A.R.S. buddies for life.”

Jill bit her lip at the unexpected touch, but found herself moving in closer. She took a deep breath, and let it out slowly.

“I’m not used to seeing you this chill and friendly, though,” Rebecca said, softly. “I swear when I started with S.T.A.R.S. I thought you hated me.”

“Oh god, was I that bad?” Jill asked.

Rebecca nodded.

“A little bit. I mean, I figured it was all that army training making you stoic, but then you were such a party animal…”

Looking over Jill’s features, noticing the growing blush, noting the reaction to her touch, Rebecca’s eyes went wide.

“Wait a minute. Holy crap. Did you…was it…?”

Jill turned crimson.

“I was the only non-straight person in S.T.A.R.S. Wesker would have had a field day if he knew I wasn’t only into men. It would have been perfect blackmail material, which is why I didn’t talk much with you at the time.”

“Weeeell, maybe not the only non-straight one,” Rebecca said, running a hand sheepishly through her own hair.

“Wait. Hold the phone. _You?_ ”

“Y-Yeah,” Rebecca said, chuckling. “Not when I was in S.T.A.R.S., though. I kinda experimented a little in my training to be a teacher? Nothing stuck, but…I discovered I wasn’t all about Chris’s abs.”

“Not that they’re not impressive,” Jill said, laughing.

“I used to _dream_ about them,” Rebecca admitted. “Okay, look…you wanna do confession time? ‘Cause I figure now’s the time. When we’re not so settled in and stuff.”

“We got beer in here? I’m gonna need to get smashed.”

“Just had the fridge stocked before we got here,” Rebecca confirmed.

Both girls grabbed a beer from the fridge and settled in on the bed.

“So, who goes first?” Jill asked.

“I confessed last, so you,” Rebecca said.

“Okay,” she said, take the first sip. “I had a crush on you back in the S.T.A.R.S. days. I felt sooo bad about it. Like, you were 18, I was 24. I felt like I was cradle robbing.”

“Girl, you weren’t the only one,” Rebecca said. “I’m sure some of the guys…”

Jill swallowed hard.

“Who was it?” Rebecca asked. “Chris? Forest? Brad?”

“Wesker,” she said, sighing.

Rebecca looked as if she’d found a Licker in her shower.

“Ewwww! How’d you find out?”

Jill looked ashamed.

“He had a picture of you in a basketball uniform in his desk. I knew, and I never told you.”

“So _that’s_ where my copy of the photo went! Ugh, I could kill him! He said he was going to give it to me and he _kept it?!_ ”

“Wait, you’re not mad at me?”

Rebecca sighed.

“Jill, what was I gonna do? Complain to the _literal serial killer police chief_ who was our boss above Wesker?”

“Okay, fair point,” Jill said, shaking her head.

“You’ve been beating yourself up about that, haven’t you?”

“Along with several things, yeah,” Jill admitted. “I’m…”

“Overburdening yourself with guilt for a ton of things that aren’t your fault at all?” Rebecca asked. “Look, I’m no stranger to that.”

Jill chugged her beer.

“You’re next, Rebecca.”

“Okay, my confession…. I let an escaped criminal walk. Faked his death for him and everything. I was 18 and barely had been on the force at all.”

“When’d that happen?” Jill asked. “We weren’t S.T.A.R.S. all that long.”

“It was just before the Mansion Incident. Did I ever tell you that story?”

“No, actually. I just remember that you looked half-dead all throughout that night.”

Rebecca recapped the entire story of how she’d met Billy Coen, and their adventures on a zombie-filled train, and through an Umbrella laboratory.

“…a guy who sang opera to control leeches?” Jill asked, incredulous.

“This from the woman who fought zombies with organic chainsaw arms?”

“Touche,” Jill said, sipping the beer. “Must have been a real hunk for you to let him go.”

“He was tall, dark, had tattoos, and was framed for a crime he didn’t commit. Also, he kept calling me princess.”

“ _Princess?!_ You must have wanted to kill him!”

Rebecca turned pink.

“Yeah, I wasn’t a fan. I was in the height of my ‘I’m a very serious super cop’ phase.”

“It dies off, doesn’t it?” Jill asked. “Usually after you spend a week drinking to forget what it’s like being a very serious super cop.”

“Honestly, I like being a scientist and university professor _way_ more than being a cop,” Rebecca admitted. “I do sometimes think…okay…sorry to confess twice in a row, but I literally look at you and wish I’d carried it off better. My students asked me if I was the same Rebecca Chambers who worked with Jill Valentine, and they asked if I had pictures of you.”

“ _Men_ ,” Jill snorted.

“Actually…my class that year was all girls. You’re kind of a lesbian icon.”

Jill snorted out beer and cackled.

“Me? Rolled out of bed at 3 AM to go bust a cap in some leather-wearing douche’s ass before he can unleash a bunch of lizardmen and zombie dogs on the world _me_?”

Rebecca rolled her eyes.

“Jill. You are shredded, can lift guns that are as big as you, take down monsters five times your size, and spend your down time pounding beers and lifting weights while looking at fashion photography and looking like a gritty L’Oreal ad. Is it really so shocking girls find you _hot_? One student accidentally uploaded her porn folder to my cloud. There were S.T.A.R.S. publicity photos in there along with all the actual porn. And the funny thing was I almost was upset there were more pictures of you than me in it!”

“So what are we then?” Jill asked, teasingly. “The butch/femme pairing of the century?”

Rebecca turned crimson.

“God,” Jill muttered. “You really are utterly gay for me, aren’t you?”

“I can’t help it!” Rebecca protested, looking for all the world like a teenager with a crush. “I kinda spent all that time in S.T.A.R.S. feeling jealous of you. And then when I had a fling in college, I realized it wasn’t you I was jealous of, it was…fuck…”

“It was a crush. You saw the way I looked at you, the way I was reluctant to talk, and…”

“I guess the first hint was me dropping my water bottle at the gym the first time I saw you working out.”

“I thought I’d scared you!”

“Uh, yeah, you did! ‘Cause I had no idea I liked girls!”

Both women finally burst into laughter, laughing until they hurt and tears were running down their faces.

“Okay, I have another confession,” Jill said. “You’ll find this hilarious. You know why Wesker wears those stupid sunglasses? He has cat eyes.”

“What?!”

“I’m serious!” Jill said. “He’s got these yellow slit eyes, like a cat’s. He had them genetically modded. The problem is, because he’s always wearing sunglasses, he can’t see in the dark at all! Chris beat him by shooting out the lights and beating the tar out of him. I was laughing my ass off. Well, mentally—my body was still under his control at the time. Otherwise, I’d have joined Chris in beating him up.”

“Seriously?! I just thought he did it to be a poser!”

“No, that’s what sporting frosted tips in 2008 is,” Jill said. “Seriously. I had a mental list of nicknames compiled for him. Douchebag Bowie. Ghoul Fieri. Insane Clown Wesker. Draco Malfoy. Agent Smith.”

“I used to call him Depeche Mode behind his back,” Rebecca admitted, giggling. “He’s like every bad 80s glam cliché packed into one sociopath.”

“Next confession,” Rebecca said. “I felt bad about ditching Raccoon City the way I did.”

“You were a literal teenager,” Jill said. “Sticking around would have been the dumbest career move you could have made. If I hadn’t been under house arrest, I’d have already boarded the nope train to fuck-that-ville.”

“Still! All those lives senselessly wasted…I could have helped spread the vaccine…kept it safe from that _bastard_ Nikolai.”

“You’ve saved the world ten times over with your research and dedication,” Jill said, putting a hand gently on Rebecca’s shoulder. “Becky, I really don’t know what more you could do that you haven’t done. Yeah, I punch shit and shoot, but you’re the reason the outbreaks don’t come back.”

Rebecca’s eyes sparkled as she took a sip of her beer, putting the can down and sighing.

“I guess so…”

They drank in silence for a while, letting the buzz wash over them as moonlight poured through the bedroom window through the venetian blinds, casting dark, chiaroscuro shadows over their bodies. A couple of bottles piled up in the corner, and the two women sighed.

“Why didn’t we say anything sooner?” Jill said, softly.

“About what?” Rebecca asked.

“About the feelings. About this shit. About the baggage we’ve been dragging around since 1998. Are we trying to pretend that the world’s a better place than it is and that we can make it alone?”

“We pretend whatever we can to make us feel better,” Rebecca said, softly. “Sometimes I pretend I’m not absolutely fucking terrified of the world I live in. Can you imagine being a little girl and meeting your future self? Can you imagine what you’d say to her? The monsters under the bed are real and people buy them to hurt others. They make new ones, just to make people suffer. All for money.”

“I’d tell that girl she’s going to be brave,” Jill said, looking into Rebecca’s eyes. “I’d tell her she’s going to cure the diseases that are ruining the world. That she’s going to fight the monsters that hurt people. That she’s not going to let people scare her if she can help it.”

Rebecca’s eyes rose to meet Jill’s, and her breath caught in her throat.

“Jill—”

“You were always a star, Becky. You lived up to the ideal. I know Wesker treated you like the company mascot, but you were _never_ that. You had the same gun, same fight, same purpose as all of us. If you saved even a single life from Raccoon City—and you did—you can’t call yourself a failure. Even if you’re scared as hell.”

Rebecca’s hand reached out and Jill took it, not breaking her gaze for a second.

“Confession time,” Rebecca said. “I didn’t just call you to the island to get you away. I called you here because for ten years I’d been looking at a photo on my desk and wondering what became of the little girl that idolized you. And I realized slowly, she’d grown into someone that was still idolizing you. I called you because—”

Jill pulled Rebecca closer.

“Because you can have whatever you want if you just _ask_ ,” Jill whispered.

“I want _you_ ,” Rebecca whispered back, her voice trembling. “I’ve wanted you for so long…”

She moved in to kiss Jill, and Jill met her halfway.

The bags were forgotten.

Jill felt herself stripping off her tank top, leaving her worn, shredded undershirt on, looking at Becky almost nervously pulling her sweater off, her arms shuddering and her eyes sparkling with what looked like happy tears.

In a pink bra with a little white bow and a grey skirt, she had never looked more tempting, little bits of her shredded innocence still part of her, like faded tattoos. Jill beckoned her forward with her finger, smiling warmly at her.

“I’m here for _you._ Nothing else,” she said, softly.

Rebecca nodded, swallowing hard before she went to unhook her bra. She fumbled, sighing, and hung her head as she kept trying to undo it, biting her lip.

Jill giggled softly.

“Relax. This isn’t your first time. You’ll get the hang of it again if you just breathe slowly.”

Rebecca took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and before she knew it the cool night air was blowing over her bare chest. She opened them to see Jill smirking and holding her bra on one fingertip.

“Master of unlocking,” she quipped.

Rebecca reached out, slowly hooking her fingers under Jill’s top, lifting it up and off, and taking a deep breath as she saw the chest and abs that had been the envy of the S.T.A.R.S. locker rooms.

Jill pulled Rebecca close, and stood up with her, kissing her again and again. She felt Rebecca’s gentle touch through her hair and down her spine, even as she reached for Rebecca’s zipper and let the tight little skirt drop and hit the floor. Pink lace panties greeted her as Rebecca all but tore open Jill’s worn jeans. They walked together, kissing and touching in the moonlight.

The moment was interrupted by Jill slipping on a bag strap. Rebecca caught her, and as they sat down on the bed, Jill froze.

There, in the mirror, visible clearly, were the ugly scars of the mind control device.

Jill froze up, curling up in her black panties, somehow looking frailer than Rebecca in the moment. She cursed herself, biting her lip until she drew blood. A frustrated scream escaped her bloodied lip.

“Damn it…”

Rebecca was at her side in an instant.

“Jill…it’s not your fault…” she whispered.

“I was so _fucking_ stupid…” Jill muttered. “I took a gamble and lost. I was just so determined to punch his stupid face in and what did I get? Ten jagged little holes in my chest. So many drugs and viruses that it’s a miracle I’m still standing. You were seconds away from your biggest fantasy coming true and now here I am, covered in blood, half-naked, and ruining it with my personal shit.” 

Rebecca reached for a nearby tissue and dried the blood off Jill’s lips.

“So you need to heal. Is that a sin?” she asked, calmly.

Standing up, she extended a hand to Jill.

“Come downstairs with me,” she said, softly. “I’ll get you something to eat. Food heals all wounds.”

“I thought that was time,” Jill deadpanned, taking Rebecca’s hand, sheepishly.

“Time, food, and your crush in utterly scandalous panties,” she reassured her. “Now, I don’t have a lot in the house, but I have some fresh bread that I ordered to here before I planned the trip, as well as some meat, cheese, and lettuce. A bit of mayo and mustard too, I think.”

“Are you seriously going to make me a sandwich?” Jill asked. “I mean, I’m hungry and all but—no. You wouldn’t.”

“I’m making a Jill Sandwich,” she said, giggling.

Jill rolled her eyes, but began to laugh too. Unconsciously, she touched her scars, gently fingering over the raised holes where the thing’s legs had been.

“Let me help you with that,” Rebecca said. She went into a nearby bathroom, and pulled out a first aid kit.

“This…is an old wound.”

“Yeah, one you’ve been picking at! No wonder it won’t heal! Now, let me play doctor and fix it, okay?”

“Play doctor? Becky, you _have_ your degree. Or is this the kind of pillow talk I miss out on when I’m not seducing college professors?”

Rebecca turned pink and stamped her foot in frustration.

“Watch your mouth or I’ll take your temperature.”

Gently taking out a dressing, Rebecca pinned Jill to the wall. She tore open an alcohol pad and gently traced over the scars with it, then placed the sterile dressing over the area, taping it down.

“There,” she said, satisfied with her handiwork. “You’re not taking that off until I see that it’s properly healed, okay?”

Jill was crimson, far more so than when she’d been stripped down by Rebecca. The medic hadn’t even gotten her panties off, but she felt so _naked_ now.

“Understood, doctor,” she replied, softly.

Jill let Rebecca lead her downstairs. She sat through the sandwich preparation, but noticed all the little touches Rebecca did. She heated it slowly in the oven. She sliced it diagonally, just like how she used to cut her own sandwiches back at the R.P.D. breakroom. 

“I’m sorry I don’t have spicy mustard,” Rebecca said. “I really tried to have everything you used to put in your sandwiches.”

Jill blushed harder.

“Look, Becky…I’m just flattered about all of this…”

“Eat up.”

And she obeyed, letting the perky doctor smile and watch her. It was kind of hard, Jill admitted, to focus when the cutest doctor she’d ever seen was serving her while wearing little else but a smile, but she could get used to it.

After she finished the sandwich, Jill downed a glass of water and went to freshen up.

She was a bit surprised Rebecca had followed her.

“I’m impressed so far at your healing,” Rebecca said. “But you skimped on the meal.”

“There was just a sandwich—”

“When you’re not having a good time,” Rebecca said, whipping Jill’s panties, then her own, to the floor, “always save room for dessert.”

Jill led Rebecca back out to the bed, lying on her back and letting the cute little medic sit on her face, even as she lowered her tongue to Jill’s slit. Jill flicked her tongue into Rebecca’s clit, gently curling it upward, trying to brush along the petite woman’s g-spot.

Rebecca moaned and screamed. She slid down off Jill, shaken by the waves of pleasure coursing through her.

“Fuck! How are you that good with your tongue?!”

“Practice unclenching my jaw,” Jill said. “That, and too much time wasted with a boyfriend in high school. He was never that good at it.”

“So you’ve never done it with a woman?”

“Yeah, no. Fantasized, hell yeah, watched a few videos, but…”

Rebecca blushed.

“I’m gonna just, uh, sit back and let you take charge.”

“Oh no,” Jill said, pulling Rebecca closer and spreading her legs. “We’re partners.”

They scissored, clit rubbing against clit, moaned confessions pouring out faster than the arousal running freely from their legs. Rebecca traced down Jill’s spine as she left little bites along her neck. Moaning, lost in each other, they kissed and parted, fingers and hands tracing over every inch of each other’s bodies.

Jill found herself tearing the dressing from her body, and Rebecca’s jaw dropped a little. Gently, the medic touched the scars, and watched Jill writhe, her dark eyes still lost with desire.

“I’ve made the decision that you’re one of the few people who gets to touch me like this,” she said, softly. “I _want_ to be vulnerable to you…”

Rebecca’s voice caught in her throat as she tried to respond. Only happy tears came out as reply.

She fingered Jill’s clit a while longer before those eyes took her prisoner once more and they kissed again and again.

Jill slumped back onto the bed after a bit.

“God, I feel so fucking lost sometimes…” she moaned.

“That’s why I wanted us to get away…”

“So we could be lost together?”

“Yeah,” Rebecca admitted. “Look, we have two weeks off…”

“Two weeks, huh? There’s a lot I could teach you in that time…”

“I don’t doubt it.”

The two women slid underneath the sheets, scattered clothing and bags everywhere.

Jill pushed Wesker’s memory from her mind, and let Rebecca’s fingers fill the holes by her heart.


	2. Come Clean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Secrets are revealed. Showers are taken. Shadows loom.

When they awoke the following morning, Rebecca was groaning.

“Ugh…I have _such_ a hangover!”

She pouted and raised herself up in the bed.

“What did we do after we made out last night?” she asked. “I mean, I know we totally, uh, banged, but…”

“You fell asleep like a kitten with your hand over my scars,” Jill said, sweetly, rising up to greet her. “You are so utterly adorable.”

Rebecca blushed.

“I try so very hard to be a badass,” she muttered. “Do you know how hard it is to be a badass when you’re practically five foot nothing?”

“Do you know how easy it is to look ridiculous when on paper you should be a badass? Because Wesker nailed that. Do you know how the man opens a fight?”

Rebecca dropped her voice down to a level Jill didn’t think possible.

“We meet at last, Jill Valentine!”

Jill flat out cackled.

“No, it’s even more ridiculous. He throws his sunglasses.”

Rebecca choked on her laughter.

“Please tell me they explode. Or have sharp edges. Or _anything that would make that a less stupid mental image_.”

“No,” Jill said, laughing. “They’re $500 sunglasses that he just throws casually at you and then follows up with a kick. That’s when you notice his cat eyes _glow_ and it’s utterly impossible to take him seriously. Training with him is an exercise in frustration because when he’s not pretending to be a cop, he’s really embracing his inner comic book villain.”

“Even during training?”

“Let me tell you…”

\--

“Jill. It’s time to train.”

Jill had stood up and followed him. Even if he’d relaxed the mental control somewhat, she knew he could just re-exert it again, so there was really no point in fighting it. As they stepped into the facility’s gym, Wesker took position in the middle of the room.

“You know, Jill, I hardly ever thought this day would come. You stand here amid my greatest triumph—”

“A brilliant success,” Jill muttered, robotically, in a tone so indistinct it was impossible to tell if she was being sarcastic or not. (She was.)

“Every day we train together is another day closer to a perfect world, one rid of all imperfections, and schemers. We will be triumphant that day. Think of it…a world with no more war. One nation under Wesker.”

_Gag me,_ Jill thought. _Is he still going on about this?_

Wesker dramatically threw his sunglasses and coat off, steadying himself to fight Jill.

“And now. Let the battles begin.”

“As you command, Megatron,” Jill deadpanned.

Irritated, he tapped his earpiece.

“This is Wesker. Up the dosage, she’s getting snarky again.”

She felt a sharp pinch in her chest, but steeled herself. Swinging a punch at Wesker, he only narrowly dodged it.

“Well, at least the dosage isn’t affecting your skill.”

“Affect this!” Jill protested, fighting against the virus as she swung a hard kick that caught Wesker square in his midsection. He coughed hard.

“Pretentious, egocentric, unmitigated douchebag!” Jill yelled, hitting Wesker again and again, until he stepped around her so quickly she could barely react in time to notice the impact of his fist to the back of her head.

Jill hit the floor, coughing up blood.

“You’ll heal,” he said, grimly. “But good try anyway.”

Jill felt the virus coursing into her, felt her drive to fight draining away.

“You won’t win…” she said, in a haze. “You never do…”

“I’ll admit, there have been setbacks,” Wesker said, calmly. “But your mistake is thinking this has been a series of chess games. This is more of a Last Man Standing match. And I will be the Last. Man. Standing.”

\--

“So he dropped a line straight out of a wrestling promo, and then went back to beating the tar out of you? And here I thought the 100-yard-dash he had us do in S.T.A.R.S. training was awful.”

“I could only wish for that,” Jill said, laughing.

“Do you think Wesker was ever a good man?” Rebecca asked, softly. “I just…nobody can be _born_ bad, right?”

“Wesker…it’s funny. I overheard him monologuing once, while waiting for him. I don’t think he ever figured out I was listening in, but…”

\--

“The personal diary of Albert Wesker, day 400. I have learned the truth of my origins. I have learned the truth of my father. I have killed him. Ozwell Spencer. To the world at large, he was a philanthropist and innovator. Then, he was a genocidal monster. All along, I have known the truth. He was weak. He was a coward.”

Jill swore she heard something like a cut-off sob.

“All my life—I had thought myself my own man. I had thought the old man just a distant father figure, nothing more. For surely even common people have those. And now—to learn that he wrote my entire life, chapter and verse, and all but signed his name—I am without words.”

_What was he on about?_

“I was little more than an extension of Lord Spencer’s life. He is dead now, and I am free. At least, I would like to believe I am. But even now, Spencer’s shadow blends with my own, and as I go to liberate the world of its failed and useless citizens that drag it down, I cannot help but wonder if Spencer still holds my hand and drags me forward from his wheelchair. No, no, I cannot think like this. I am the future now, not him. And with Jill at my side I can achieve what he never could.”

The recording stopped.

“Ah, Jill. Just on time.”

She stared intently at him, but blankly.

“I know you resent me for this,” he said, calmly. “It won’t be for forever. In time, you’ll understand why I’m doing it. I only ever wanted a better world. Umbrella could never have achieved that. But you and I…I’d like to think it was possible.”

Jill felt the viral systems in her slacken for a moment. She wanted to tell Wesker to go fuck himself, to fight back, but all she said was,

“I only ever wanted a better world, too.”

\--

“The more I hear about Wesker, the less I think I understand him,” Rebecca said, sighing.

“I think it’s sort of like your average rich kid, but way more screwed up,” Jill said. “I dug through whatever files I could get my hands on after I was free, and well…the whole history of Umbrella is unbelievably screwed up. The whole thing is one man’s megalomania, lasting for generations.”

“That’s horribly mundane and disappointing, but it makes sense,” Rebecca said. “The greatest monsters are often just people who can’t see past themselves.”

Jill sighed.

“It’s all too fucking true and I hate it. I also hate that I should probably be out of bed and getting ready.”

“Shower with me like we used to?” Rebecca offered. “I’ll make you pancakes after. The garden has fresh strawberries, too, so we can have some with it.”

Jill blushed softly.

“How has someone not snapped you up already?” she wondered. “Cute, domestic, and a brain bigger than you are…”

“Insecure guys are a girl’s worst nightmare. There was just nobody good enough, and my last girl crush hooked up with her dream guy. I guess the whole time, I was just thinking about you. It was hard to not think about you.”

Jill frowned.

“Guys were seriously insecure being with you? Gah, what is _with_ them? Like, if it’s so hard dealing with a smart woman just study harder!”

“Jill, you once complained to me guys were intimidated by you because you were so built,” Rebecca said, laughing. “And this was before you were Umbrella’s test subject and can now probably take a few bullets before dropping.”

“Then they need to work out more,” Jill deadpanned. “Seriously, Umbrella didn’t do much to me that I hadn’t already built up. For all the bragging guys do about going to the gym, so many of them are slackers.’

“Carry me to the shower?” Rebecca teased.

Jill got out of bed, scooped Rebecca up bridal-style, and carried her all the way to the bathroom.

“You’re so strong…” she gushed, smiling up at Jill.

“You’re light as hell, so it’s not difficult,” Jill said. “That said, I’d rather carry you than crates full of weapons. Wesker liked using me to stack heavy boxes he was too busy monologuing to deal with.”

As the two women climbed into the shower, Rebecca knelt down to run the water and test it.

“I gotta ask, what was it like?” Jill said. “Leaving S.T.A.R.S. and becoming a teacher?”

“Scary at first,” Rebecca admitted. “I went into hiding a while. Waited at least until Albert Wesker decided to sell Umbrella out. I mean, we were wanting to expose what he did…”

“You and me both,” Jill said, sighing. “I literally shot out my cheap-ass TV the moment I saw that. Chris called me up right after to see how I was doing. I don’t think there was anything more galling than seeing Albert fucking Wesker trying to play whistleblower.”

“I had no idea these awful things were happening! And I have no idea who that dashingly handsome guy in the shades in those photos was, but it wasn’t me!” Rebecca said, in a mocking British accent.

“So what did you do after you realized you’d be safe?” Jill said.

“I went to teacher’s college,” Rebecca explained. “It went fairly smoothly, and people got so wowed by the whole ‘you were in S.T.A.R.S.!’ thing. I wanted to do a lot of work to help educate people on viruses and how to stop them. I swear people think cellphone towers spread them.”

“That’s a whole level of stupid I don’t even want to contemplate.”

“I know, right? Thankfully my students were all pretty chill and reasonable. I mean, when you’re a lecturer, it’s easier. My initial teaching assignments were…well…cover, to get me into a university where bad B.O.W. shit was going on.”

“Higher learning is corrupt? Say it ain’t so,” Jill deadpanned.

“Turns out an ex-Umbrella researcher was working there trying to use viruses to make kids smarter. All it did was turn all but one into zombies. Also, he found some cryptid and tried to used its DNA to bring back his dead son.”

“That’s almost noble by Umbrella standards.”

“I kept doing university lectures even after the job was done,” Rebecca explained. “Somebody’s gotta put a sense of ethics into kids. Thank god the ethically-unsound people stay mostly in business, not science.”

“Wesker really struck me as a business major, not gonna lie.”

“You look like you majored in badass,” Rebecca said, flirtatiously.

“And you look like an art major with a minor in cute, but that brain is definitely Ivy League material.”

Rebecca leaned over and kissed Jill before getting the shampoo out and gently massaging it into Jill’s hair, nearly slipping on the suds.

“I should probably kneel a bit,” Jill

“Don’t kneel for me!” Rebecca protested.

She then leaned into Jill’s ear. 

“There’ll be time for that later…”

Jill turned crimson as she began to work shampoo into Rebecca’s hair, soaping down her body as well.

In turn, Rebecca gently caressed Jill, working soap over her, her hand hesitating at the scars.

Jill sighed softly.

“You can touch me there, you know. I won’t stop you.”

“No, it’s just… _god_ , I could strangle Wesker for that.”

She gently rubbed the scars and down Jill’s chest, blushing softly, lost in Jill’s intense eyes. The world seemed to slow to a crawl as the two women touched each other, fingers ghosting over old wounds and glances holding tighter than flesh.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” Rebecca whispered.

“I didn’t know I wanted this til now, but I don’t think I’ll ever want anything else…” Jill replied.

There was a scraping noise outside the window, just barely audible under the running water.

But both women froze.

A shadow passed over the bathroom window…then vanished.

“Uh, we _are_ alone on this island, right?” Jill asked.

“Yeah, we are,” Rebecca affirmed. “That said, there are birds on the island. Pretty big ones. They fly by every now and then. Probably found a bug on the windowsill that looked tasty.”

It was still sunny outside.

But Jill had a sinking feeling…


	3. Garden of Eden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not all fruit that grows on trees is sweet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gooood, I am so, so sorry it took so long for the update. This year can go to hell.

The two women made their way downstairs and settled into eating breakfast. Jill had slipped on a blue tube top and miniskirt, and Rebecca was in a tank top and shorts. Jill cooked, returning the favour from earlier, and managed to cook scrambled eggs and toast without burning anything, something she took a small amount of pride in.

“I used to be terrible at this,” she said, sheepishly. “I used to burn my toast every morning. I think it’s ‘cause I could never focus on it. I’d always be thinking ahead, never really considering the little things.”

“Thinking ahead for what?” Rebecca asked, eating toast pensively, spreading a little raspberry jam on another piece.

“I dunno,” Jill said, knocking back her second cup of coffee. “Guess I thought maybe I’d get my own place, some IKEA furniture, meet a nice girl and settle down. Y’know, cover as roommates for a bit til I could go somewhere where it wasn’t an issue.”

“I’m guessing zombies didn’t factor into any of this.”

“No,” Jill admitted, “they didn’t. Look, I was liking the apartment life, but what can I say? Pinups aren’t quite a good substitute for genuine human contact.”

“What about the hunk you met in Raccoon City? Carlos?”

Jill laughed, softly.

“ _God_ , what a teenager in a man’s body. Least he took the hint, though. I won’t lie, he was cute, but just not really my type. He had balls of steel, though, when push came to shove.”

“Wasn’t he Umbrella?”

“UBCS. Umbrella’s regular cleanup crew. The poor bastards who get tasked with dealing with shit they’re not prepared to deal with. For the most part. I can’t prove it, but I swear Nicholai was on Wesker’s payroll.”

She sighed.

“For all the shit I give Umbrella, if it were full of people like Carlos, I wouldn’t be doing what I’m doing right now.”

“Eating breakfast with your crush?” Rebecca offered.

Jill blushed.

“Okay, so I guess I can thank Umbrella for _one_ thing,” she said, laughing. “Still, I can’t recommend Wesker as a matchmaker.”

They finished up, and Jill saw Rebecca throwing some berries and yogurt into a blender.

“It’s healthier than a milkshake.”

“But not as much fun,” Jill said, smiling.

“True enough. I’m just trying to keep in shape, though. This time, I don’t want anything getting the drop on me. I know it’s been ages since I’ve been in real danger, but…the world’s a crazy place.”

“Considering you blew through an entire Umbrella base and then fought a giant snake, I wouldn’t worry about anything getting the drop on you again.”

“Even you?” Rebecca asked, so innocent it couldn’t be anything else but flirtation. “I mean, whatever would I do if my absolutely gorgeous girlfriend lifted me up when I wasn’t looking?”

Jill sighed.

“I keep thinking I should be training,” she admitted. “I don’t know much about relaxing, honestly. It’s hard to think that I could ever rest, that there isn’t some mutant frog or whatever that I need to blow away.”

“We could just do something fun. Explore a little. That’d be close enough to training right?”

“I guess,” Jill admitted.

“Ugh, this is a Wesker thing, isn’t it? Let me guess, he went all Britishy and said ‘There’s no rest for _gods_ ,’ and strutted around like a total fucking ponce.”

Jill laughed softly.

“Yes, yes he did. In about those exact words, too.”

The two girls finished up breakfast, and walked outside. The island had a heavenly breeze, somewhat warm and yet just cool enough to be refreshing. Dewy green grass stretched on for what seemed like forever, wildflowers scattered among the blades. Large trees full of apples and berries grew around, and ocean birds sometimes landed on the branches to nab a snack. The sun shone a misty halo over the island, and Jill’s eyes widened.

“It’s like paradise…”

Jill felt herself shed a tear.

“Oh, Becky…” she said, gasping. “Thank you for bringing me here…”

Rebecca pulled her tight.

“This is why I did it, honestly. It’s been such a shitty decade, I wanted you to get a decent break.”

“You sure it wasn’t to finally get my pants off and play doctor?” Jill teased, kissing Rebecca.

“Weeeell, not just!”

The two walked for a bit before Rebecca pulled Jill under the shade of a tree.

“I miss the days where I could just lay under a tree in Raccoon City’s park without having to worry about giant insects, or zombies, or nukes,” Rebecca said. “That’s part of the reason I helped pick this island. It looked so peaceful, so warm, so _refreshing_.”

“Were you a romance novel girl?” Jill asked. “I used to read absolutely filthy erotica under the trees, or on park benches. I put the dullest dust covers over the hardcovers, too. Stuff like tax code stuff, gun manuals, or really old political books. Made myself look like a total square, but under that it was all bodice-ripping lesbian stuff. Victorian maids being seduced by the lady of the manor. Vampires in trashy nightclubs. Cops going undercover in more ways than one. A thousand little fantasies for someone who didn’t really even dare flirt, who pushed people away like no tomorrow.”

“Because you were waiting for me,” Rebecca finished. “Let’s face it, Chris was your beard. We knew you were just friends. Wesker thought there was more going on there.”

“And were you waiting for me?” Jill asked.

“Weeeell, I’d read a lot of princess stories and things like that, and I realized eventually the handsome prince I was picturing looked a hell of a lot like you in a tuxedo.”

“I swear sometimes my dreams looked like a bad 80s music video. I don’t know why. Maybe it was the b-movie I survived in Raccoon City, maybe it was Wesker’s fucking New Wave aesthetic, but I swear I’d have dream about rescuing you in a white dress, and fucking Jim Steinman music playing. Then I’d wake up and throw the book across the room.”

“ _Jim Steinman?!_ ” Rebecca asked in disbelief. “What, like Meat Loaf? Bonnie Tyler?”

“Worse,” she said. “Fire Inc. The songs from _Streets of Fire._ ”

“I really can’t picture you in anything set to “Tonight Is What It Means to Be Young”.”

“Nor can I,” Jill said, laughing. “But there I was, in my S.T.A.R.S. uniform rescuing you from Wesker!”

Rebecca laughed.

“It was less funny,” Jill said, sighing, “when I’d wake up and I’d be in Wesker’s fucking gimp suit again. And I couldn’t move a muscle of my own body.”

Jill felt herself being kissed.

“That’s to make up for all the bad times,” Rebecca said, before she winced.

“Oww!”

They looked up.

“What fell on your head?” Jill asked. “An apple?”

Rebecca screamed when she looked at the ground.

At her side was a human skull with a large bite out of it…


	4. Slumber Party Massacre

“Okay, Becky…” Jill said, looking around. “Let’s not panic. True, we’re probably being hunted. But at least I’m gonna be hunted in a place that _isn’t_ a complete shithole.”

“I don’t get it,” Rebecca said, nervously. “The island was abandoned.”

“Uh, abandoned, or _deserted_? Because those are very, very different terms when it comes to islands.”

Rebecca swallowed hard.

“Please don’t be mad…”

“Rebecca. Tell me the truth. What is _really_ going on with this island?”

“I don’t know. Not entirely,” she admitted, tears in her eyes. “I was told when they found the island that they’d caught an Umbrella deal going down here after the company was starting to collapse. They took over the island to make sure nothing was wrong. They only took crates out of here, nothing live. As far as I know, that was it. I wasn’t in charge of that operation; I was only told when I started prying a bit when they asked me to start doing PTSD retreats to the island.”

Jill sighed.

“Ok. So, you really _were_ in the dark on this. Yeah, there’s no signs of a lab or anything, so…”

Rebecca choked back the last of her tears.

“I just wanted this to be good for you. I didn’t think there’d be anything wrong…”

“That’s why you asked, right? You didn’t want there to even be the slightest risk—”

“Yeah…otherwise I would have just tried to get us tickets to the Bahamas and packed a bikini. I mean, if they were willing to give me time off. Which, knowing the BSAA…”

“Terror never takes time off,” Jill said, in what sounded remarkably like Chris Redfield’s voice. “Trust me, I know. Chris was on edge the moment I got out of Raccoon City. That whole night at the mansion changed him, and I was trying to tell myself that it hadn’t changed me.”

“It changed me too. I swear I was just…a mess. Everyone thinks I got out okay because I was half-unconscious and the whole thing must have felt like a bad dream. That’s because they don’t know about everything _before_ that, and how…”

Rebecca sighed.

“Well, you know, don’t you?” she asked. “All the shitty things that come with PTSD. That hunger even when you’re not hungry, because you never know when your next meal is going to be your last. That sexual frustration that makes you finger yourself raw, but run in fear at the prospect of a guy getting inside you. Going for a flu shot, or a vaccine, and feeling that heaviness in your arm and hoping you don’t turn into a twisted monstrosity overnight. I stopped drinking caffeine because I couldn’t take the paranoia.”

“That’s why you wanted me for so long…because I was there, and I got it,” Jill said, softly.

“You seemed so strong, coming out of it all…”

“Isn’t it funny? We both think we’re doing worse than each other.”

Jill looked at the skull one last time.

“Well, if we don’t move, we’re gonna be doing worse, period.”

The two women headed back to the house, and Jill began rummaging through her bags. A shotgun was laid next to an AK-47, a S.T.A.R.S. service pistol next to that, and stacks of magazines and boxes of shells nearby. Finally, a long Bowie knife was laid on top.

Rebecca sighed.

“You really did take all your baggage with you, didn’t you?”

“Look on the bright side, Becky. If there _are_ monsters on this island, my return trip load will be a hell of a lot lighter.”

Rebecca frowned before stifling a laugh.

“Always the same Jill Valentine, huh?”

“You wouldn’t have me any other way.”

She smiled and kissed Jill, wrapping her delicate, yet powerful arms around her.

“Yeah, no I wouldn’t. I came prepared too, by the way.”

Walking over to a nearby mirror, she tugged it aside, revealing a machine pistol and a few magazines.

“It’s meant to be emergency use only,” she explained. “But I figure this more than qualifies. I think the groundskeeper left a shotgun in the work shed before I told him to take a holiday, so we can check that too.”

Rebecca sat beside Jill.

“Do you think we can find it by day?”

“Probably not. If I know Umbrella, it’ll hunt by night.”

“What do you think it is?”

“It can climb, and it has powerful jaws. Could be a lot of things. I’m personally thinking a Hunter, given the bite marks. It’s not a Web Spinner or something like the Black Tiger was. No webs. Nothing cocooned despite being up in a tree. And let’s face it, if it were a giant spider, we’d have noticed. They’re not known for stealth.”

“How did nobody notice it, though?” Rebecca asked. “I mean, Hunters…they’re stealthy, but not inaudible. They growl. They leap, shrieking, at you. They’re psychological warfare.”

“Some kind of camouflage? Or maybe it’s adapted to marine life, like the Hunter Gammas I ran into back in Raccoon City’s sewer system.”

“If it was a Gamma, wouldn’t have someone seen it? They’re slow, aren’t they?”

“Yeah, they do take a while…”

Both women sighed.

“Well, we could take a look around,” Jill said. “I mean, at least with the daylight we have an advantage.”

It was just then that the power began to flicker out.

“Terrific,” Rebecca said. “The generator’s in the basement.”

“Basement? This place has a basement?!”

“Well, yeah, but last I looked there wasn’t anything creepy about it—”

“Last I looked, this place wasn’t the hunting ground of an Umbrella BOW, but here we are!”

The girls armed up and began walking down the stairs of the basement, flashlights illuminating the darkened steps.

“This is like a slumber party, kinda,” Rebecca offered.

“How?” Jill asked. “I mean, unless there really is nothing down here but a generator, cold drinks, and the chance to get half-naked and cuddle?”

“You know everything to say to a girl,” Rebecca replied with a smirk that was increasingly fading to cautious fear. “Can’t _believe_ it took you this long to get hooked up.”

“Hate was my girlfriend for a long time. Revenge was my friends-with-benefits. Guns were my toys, and armour was my lingerie.”

“That was both hot as hell and dorky as hell. You make me want to just tear all your clothes off and cuddle you til you stop worrying.”

The last step creaked ominously as the two reached the bottom. To Jill’s surprise, though, the basement was fairly tidy. True, it wasn’t totally finished—there was some kind of entertainment room off to the side with plush throw rugs and comfy-looking armchairs and sofas, with a table and an old game system setup, and the rest was all unfinished and with a visibly large generator and furnace nearby.

Rebecca skipped over and reset the generator, which soon hummed to life and restored the power.

“This was the problem,” she said, pointing up at a bookshelf. “It was over-filled, one book fell off and hit the switch, knocking it out.”

She picked up the book, which was titled _The Umbrella Affair_ , written by one Albert Wesker.

“Ugh, seriously?!” she said. “Who brought this?”

Opening it up, it was marked “C. Redfield.”

“Chris, figures.”

“Hey, know your enemy,” Jill said, affectionately.

“I’d prefer knowing my friend,” Rebecca said, sensuously.

“What was it you said about tearing all my clothes off and cuddling me?”

Before Jill knew it, Rebecca had wrestled her down to the couch, unbuttoning her jeans and sliding them off. Jill’s shirt hit the ground nest and soon she was in nothing more than a frayed set of white lace lingerie. Rebecca stripped hurriedly down to an innocent pink undershirt and floral panties, and began to nuzzle into Jill.

“This is so cozy…” Rebecca said, purring. “We could hang out down here for a while.”

“W-We have monsters to hunt…” Jill protested, but it was weak. She knew damn well why she’d come here, and seducing Rebecca had always kind of been on the list.

She hadn’t quite expected Rebecca to take charge so much, but she’d be lying if she said she didn’t love it.

“Stop being so tense, Jill. Maybe if I jill you off, you’ll feel better…”

Jill groaned, but that groaning was replaced by a sensual moan as Rebecca cheekily slid her fingers down the front of her panties and rubbed at her clit. Rebecca took note of the reaction and took that as her cue to remove Jill’s panties entirely and begin to work harder.

Licking her fingers, she then went in with her tongue, making Jill arch her back and moan louder.

The moaning reverberated through the room…

Jill felt herself gasping and moaning…

Then she heard a faint squeak that didn’t sound like Rebecca…

Opening her eyes, she saw a monstrous spider perched above Rebecca, fangs gleaming as it descended.

“Don’t look up,” Jill said, as Rebecca continued her ministrations.

“Why?” Rebecca asked, but a shotgun blast cut her short.

The spider splattered across the wall, and Rebecca leapt back in surprise.

A hundred smaller spiders burst from the thing’s back, all charging towards the half-naked women.


	5. Storm Warning

Rebecca leapt into action, firing a few shots at the spiders, as Jill took out a few dozen with two shotgun blasts. The entire basement echoed with gunfire for a minute before Rebecca took _The Umbrella Affair_ and splattered the last spider with it, conveniently across the back cover’s smirking portrait of Albert Wesker.

“Ew…” Rebecca muttered. “Please tell me that was the only one!”

Both girls spent ten minutes rummaging through the basement, overturning everything to make sure no more giant spiders were lurking, before Jill found a small, empty metal container that read “T-VIRUS.”

Inside was nothing, but there were slots for vials of the virus.

“Now aren’t you glad you’ve had your shots?” Jill teased, but Rebecca’s eyes were watering.

“Fuck!” she exclaimed, clinging to Jill. “I just wanted to do one nice thing for you and Wesker has to ruin everything as usual!”

Jill looked down at the barely-dressed Rebecca clinging to her and laughed softly.

“What?!”

“Becky, if this trip has been ruined so much, explain why I’m naked, you’re halfway there, and you’re still trying to climb me like a tree.”

Rebecca blushed, then gasped as Jill hoisted her up and kissed her.

“J-Jill…how are you so smooth?” she squeaked out, embarrassed but undeniably turned on.

“Necessity,” Jill said, smirking, as she tossed back her hair.

“Gooooooood,” Rebecca moaned, and slid down Jill’s abs. “You almost made me forget that we just fought a bunch of spiders. You really _are_ incredible.”

Leaning down, Jill gave Rebecca a quick peck on the forehead, and scooped up her clothes.

“Come on, Becky. We’ll continue this later. I don’t think I can get in the mood next to a bunch of dead giant spiders.”

Taking the guns and clothes up to the bedroom, the two laid back and began planning.

“Okay, so the house is probably the safest place to be on the island. Even if this place isn’t super big, I’d rather take my chances with lights and walls than open air,” Jill said, looking outside. “Is there a map of this place?”

“Check the wall behind you.”

Turning around, Jill found the map and took it down.

“Okay, so let’s see…there’s a beach down on the other side of the island. If this thing’s aquatic, that’s probably where it comes and goes from. Are there any caves on the island?”

“Just one, but it’s a sea cave. Really far in. Umbrella had the deals come through there.”

“So that’s almost _certainly_ where it’s hiding.”

“Most likely. Problem is, we don’t have any scuba gear. We’ll have to take our chances with a rowboat.”

“A rowboat. Well, at least we’re heavily armed?”

“We are. Plus, hopefully the rowboat will be better for avoiding whatever’s down there. Fewer vibrations.”

“Fewer vibrations? I dunno about that,” Jill teased, pulling a rather large vibrator out of Rebecca’s nightstand drawer. “Isn’t this a little big for someone so small?”

“H-Hey!” Rebecca exclaimed, crimson. “I uh, I have very _specific needs_ , okay?!”

“Oh, you don’t need to tell me,” Jill said, smirking. “I can tell.”

Pulling Rebecca tight, she took a few slow, deep breaths, tightening her abs against the little medic’s body, and watched as she all but melted in her arms.

“I should cuff you right now for the crime of embarrassing me!”

“You’d like that, I’m sure. But you know I’d just snap the cuffs, right?”

Rebecca bit her lip.

“We’re supposed to be focusing,” she protested, weakly.

“I know,” Jill said, cheekily. “I just love watching you gush over me. It’s really flattering.”

Rebecca kissed her softly.

“I’ll let you use that on me once we’re done with this monster, okay?”

“Deal. So where’s this rowboat?”

“In the shed with the shotgun, I think. We’ll get those, and set out as soon as we can, okay?”

“Check the weather first, okay?”

**_BOOM._ **

“No need,” Rebecca said, sighing.

Jill turned on the radio anyway.

“Tropical storm, moving in, stay _indoors if possible_ …”

“Terrific…”


End file.
